Scattered Pieces
by Fixomnia Scribble
Summary: Requests answered! A few more mid-season scenes that fit in and around the events of "Coming Home", and a missing scene from 8x02, "Ghosts of the Past"


Missing Pieces

May 28th, 2017: 9:17 a.m.  
Office of the NYPD Police Commissioner  
One Police Plaza

Abigail Baker could never explain, in the days that followed, why she let the phone ring three times. The rule among staff in the office, laid down by herself, was one or two rings, maximum. When callers reached the Police Commissioner's Office, they had either been patched through after a screening by the main switchboard, or they had the direct number. They were not to be kept waiting.

As there was no pressing media story or in-house turmoil, she'd opened the office to the public at the usual time of eight-thirty, after dropping Rory off at his daycare three blocks away. Trudy, her thrice-blessed clerk, had arrived at eight, and had already placed fresh carafes of coffee, cream and baskets of bakery goods in Frank's main office and in the outer-office breakroom. Abigail had only to call down to the switchboard to wish them good morning, and to Security to spring the locks on the thick glass double-doors and allow normal elevator access to the fourteenth floor.

Frank trundled in at eight forty-two, with a smile and a nod and a "Morning, Baker," as he passed her desk and entered his office.

Just an ordinary morning at the office.

She was sipping the first heavenly cup of coffee of the day, and scanning the overnight e-mails that Trudy thought fit to send for her attention, when her desk phone rang.

 _Ring_.

A polite, muted ring for a desk right outside an important office. Not Trudy's phone, to which a call would normally be patched through first. She put down her coffee mug and blinked at the phone.

 _Ring_.

"NYPD 122 SI", she read off the display. One of the Staten Island precincts, calling her direct line. She rested her hand on the receiver for an extra heartbeat, and felt something cold and twisty in her stomach.

 _Ring_.

She snatched the receiver up. "Commissioner's Office," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," a dry voice greeted her. "This is Sergeant O'Reilly over at the one-two-two, Ma'am. Have I reached the Commissioner's direct line?"

"Near enough, Sergeant. This is Detective Baker, PC's Division. What's your business?"

"I – " Abigail thought she heard him swallow. "I'm very sorry to tell you, Detective, I have an NOK for the Commissioner."

The cold in her stomach turned to ice. "Oh, God. One of the kids?"

"No, well – maybe – Ma'am, it's Linda Reagan, Detective Reagan's wife."

Abigail closed her eyes briefly and took a breath. _Never trust an ordinary morning_.

"Tell me everything, Sergeant. This needs to come from me in person."

She pulled a notepad towards her and began taking notes. O'Reilly gave her the pitiful amount of news available at that time. And yes, he added, Detective Reagan had been informed first, by his superior. Lieutenant Carver at the five-four was with him, as was his partner Detective Baez. Carver was just waiting on a call from the PC's office to organize transport to Staten Island.

Abigail hung up with thanks for O'Reilly's promise to keep her looped in on the investigation and to personally accompany the Reagan family as needed. Before she stood up, she quickly scanned the notes she had made. Then she focused on her computer screen, and pulled up an evergreen document that she had prayed fervently she would never have to consult again.

"PROTOCOL 21.4.3 Police Commissioner Family Emergency (Death, Critical Injury)"

The document listed, in specific order, who to call, from family members to surgeons, priests and bishops, the Mayor's office, family and police lawyers. Baker had pre-allocated and authorized as many mundane Day Zero tasks as could be predicted, from picking up the children from school to bank security deposit box access.

One of the line items linked to each adult family member's Living Will and Advanced Directives in case of their untimely death or necessity of a life-support decision. Another line item linked to a separate document of pre-written key messages for the media and public. Epitaphs, photographs, wishes for donations over flowers. That sort of thing.

The last time she'd had to follow this protocol, Joe Reagan had just been shot in the line of duty, by a cop who was as dirty as they got. There were going to be flashbacks. And though Linda was Frank's daughter-in-law, he'd known her since she was a teenager, and she was the daughter of his heart.

She knocked, oddly enough for her, but it seemed the thing to do.

"Come in."

She did, and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment.

"Baker. You look perturbed."

"Frank," she said softly. He took a longer look at her, and held her eyes as she came towards him. She didn't take one of the chairs in front of his desk but headed for the leather seats instead, notepad in hand. He frowned into his moustache, looked to one side, stood himself up with a visible effort, and made his way over to her.

"Abby, what's happened?" he asked, settling down with his elbows on his knees and his fingers linked.

"It's Linda," she told him, right away. "Frank, I'm so sorry. She was escorting a patient to Baltimore with Vital One this morning – less than an hour ago – and the craft went down near Staten Island. Fire department has positively identified her and the pilot from their personal ID and Linda's next-of-kin card. NTSB is en route to the scene, and CSU. Danny's been notified. His Lieutenant is just waiting to coordinate a pick up from your detail on the way out there."

Frank was already back on his feet, the heaviness shaken off him in a sudden rush of urgency as he moved like a large hurricane through the office, gathering his coat and cellphone, and strapping on his ankle weapon, purely for the heavy comfort of it. "Send everyone to my house except Danny, his partner Baez and Linda's mother. Her name's – "

"Yes, sir," Baker told him, "Your detail has the current list of contacts and order of calls. They'll put a call through to Linda's mother Louise and sister Wendy for you to talk to them as soon as you're underway, and they'll send a car for them both. Sergeant O'Reilly at Staten Island is going to sit with you today and ride point on the investigation."

"And the boys?"

"Detective Green has just come on duty and will pick up the boys and stay with them at your house until Henry dismisses him. I'm about to call Sergeant Renzulli, to pull Jamie off patrol, and then your father. Erin's a civilian; you call her yourself, after you've spoken with Louise. We'll send cars for all of them, and Nicki. And sir, _I know you know all of this_. Trust me. We'll take care of all of you."

He paused, and rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. His eyes looked more than ever like a bloodhound's, she thought, and far older than they should, as he nodded. "Yes, I do know. Thank you, Baker."

* * *

Chess Pieces

May 28th, 2017: 9:35 pm  
Reagan House

 _Vigil_ , he thinks. From the Latin _vigilia_ , to stay awake, to keep watch.

When Joe died, he kept vigil with the family, as they're preparing to do once more tonight, for Linda. He remembers that, during Joe's vigil, his tiresomely tireless mind wouldn't shut up about the discrepancy between remaining vigilant to _watch for danger_ , and keeping a vigil for something terrible that's _already happened_. But this time, he thinks he gets it.

He's always learned more from Danny than he's let his older brother know. Tonight may be another of those times when he absorbs the lesson in silence, because there is no way Danny is in any state to hear it from him. But once again, it was Danny who shone the light of hard-won experience into Jamie's library of a brain.

Keeping vigil isn't a sleepless ritual of watching out for danger after the event has come and gone, after all. It's about watching out for each other, because the long bleak stretches of nighttime are the worst to live through on your own. And the danger that lurks in those hours is real.

The danger of numbing down grief by whatever means necessary.

The danger of letting hope be subsumed by despair.

The danger of believing yourself to be alone in your pain.

The danger of driving yourself mad with imagined replays and horrorshows.

In Danny's case, the very real danger of flashbacks, violent PTSD episodes, or disappearing. He's done it before.

So they will keep watch together, not just over Danny, but over each other, until they find solace in sleep or the day breaks.

Jamie sits back in his favourite corner of the couch in the sitting room, pushes his barely-touched scotch away on the coffee table, and looks around. Danny's sitting beside him, or rather, Jamie has placed himself on one side of Danny and Erin on the other, like chesspieces cross-blocking a Knight, and they won't let him out of sight. Linda's sister Wendy and Cousin Sophie are sitting near them on the two-seater. Sophie is the one comforting her weeping mother, and Nicky is sitting on the floor against Sophie's knees, keeping her grounded as best she can.

Frank is in the dining room for the moment, with Henry, taking advantage of a rare moment of appetite to pick at some of the food the neighbors have brought by on such short notice. Jack and Sean have retreated upstairs, understandably. Jamie's not sure if they're playing video games or talking or crashed out from exhaustion, but he'll check on them in a little while

And Eddie…Eddie's standing in the doorway between the sitting room and the open hallway, talking quietly with Baez and keeping one eye on him, just as Baez has one ear turned towards Danny, like a cat pretending not to be carefully observing every small movement.

In fact, the moment Jamie looks up, Eddie glances over at him. She's done that a few times tonight, when they haven't actually been right next to each other, but this is the first time she's looked right back at him and met his eyes full-on. It's a novel sight, she and Baez together, the Reagan partners. They don't meet often, and he doesn't think they've ever met out of uniform, but they're perfectly at ease together in this strange scenario. Light and dark, tall and small, both in pretty tops and sleek trousers and heels tonight. Packing two weapons each that he knows of, like several of the assembled company

 _She's so lovely._ It hits him in the solar plexus, the way it does sometimes, and he feels horrible at the timing of it. But there it is. She's looking at him with a mixture of compassion and curiosity, wondering where his head is, what she can do to help. The fact that she's here, that she chose to bring him here and not leave, means more than he wants to admit. She knew Linda too, if only as his brother's wife and a frequent figure of authority and information at the hospital. But she's here for him. Because she knows he's going to be the rock that his siblings and all the kids lean on the heaviest, and he can't do it alone.

He manages a small, grateful smile, and holds her eyes a little longer. Baez politely averts hers and checks in on silent Danny instead, sitting slumped next to him with an empty tumbler in hand.

Baez decides Danny need a slight intervention and moves towards them. She crouches down and holds his shoulder, and says, "Hey. Boys went up a half hour ago. You wanna maybe go check on them?"

Danny looks up. He's not drunk – on a night like this, he'd be passed out from alcohol poisoning before he was able to get properly drunk – but he's a little wobbly on his feel as he stands. Erin keeps a hand on his back as he does.

"I'll go," he says. "I'm fine. Be right back."

Erin nods gratefully at Baez. Eddie, meanwhile, has perched on the arm of the couch next to him, and has snuck a hand onto his arm without his noticing. Or perhaps her touch is so natural that it just feels right. She applies a little more pressure and he looks up.

"You're fading, too," she says. "When did you eat last? If you don't remember, it's time."

"You should," Erin agrees. He nods, and gets to his feet. It's the simplest thing in the world for Eddie to take his hand, but she gets as far as moving hers toward him, and stops herself. She settles for shoving him gently towards the dining room, where Frank and Henry are sitting at one corner.

Frank is stoic, his feelings tucked away. Henry has tears rolling down his cheeks. He's been thinking of how many wives the Reagans have buried, and as Jamie and Eddie walk in, he can't look at her.

"Sit down, kids," Frank says, as though Eddie's been summarily gathered in and adopted tonight. "Keep your strength up."

Jamie automatically pulls out a chair and gets Eddie settled before sitting beside her. She actually blushes slightly. Jamie is charmed. Frank does not miss any of this.

"How are you doing, Commissioner?" Eddie asks politely. "I wish there was more I could do."

"You're doing it right now," he tells her, "And please, tonight of all nights, I'm just Frank."

"To be perfectly Frank with you," Jamie chimes in, the old family chestnut. It's lame but time-honored, and even Henry joins in with an appreciative chuckle. It's a much-needed gasp of air for them all.

He and Eddie find enough to tempt their appetites, among the pasta dishes and fruit plates and Mrs. Lombardi's quesadillas and Bishop Donovan's lemon cake with jam. Danny eventually joins them after seeing his boys settled in bed.

"Boys asleep," he reports. "They're worn out. I wish I was."

"It's not a staying-awake contest," Frank points out mildly. "It's company for as long as you, me, any of us need tonight. You go up whenever you like."

"Yeah, I know. I just – I feel like I never want to go to sleep again. You know?"

Frank and Henry immediately utter grunts of agreement. Danny pauses. This was not a club he ever wanted to join.

"Sit down," Jamie tells him. "Eat something. Fuel to keep the engine going."

Surprisingly, Danny does. And, bolstered by his boys' need of him, despite their ages, he starts to tell them a ridiculous story about the early days of his marriage. Linda asked him to get whatever meat he liked, to put in a casserole for dinner, and he forgot until the last minute and came home with two tins of Spam from the bodega down the road. In penance, he ate the entire Spam casserole over three days, and hasn't eaten the stuff since. Jamie reminds him of the time that Linda caught him paying off their next-door neighbor for making a tray of breakfast in bed for him to bring up to Linda on the first Mother's Day after Jack was born.

For a little while, it's all just normal family stories around the same table where all their family stories are brought out and re-told and polished, time and again.

After they've eaten and digested a little, Jamie feels a little more himself, and suggests a walk. Sitting still in a house is not a natural state for him or for Eddie, and they could do with some air. Erin, overhearing them, suggests they take the girls with them, so they quite suddenly become non-babysitters of a pair of twenty-something cousins. Nicky and Sophie are still pretty shocked, but glad of a chance to get outside and away from the intense emotional symphony playing out. This is the closest they've come to feeling adult grief, and right now, they need to set that burden down for a few minutes.

For a late spring night, it's still a little chilly once the sun goes down. The girls run ahead of them to keep warm and put some distance between them and the actual adults, even if the actual adults are not so many years older than they are. Jamie slips his arm around Eddie's shoulders without thinking about it too much, and she reaches around his waist under his hoodie. If the girls make a big deal out of it later, well, it's a night to reach out to people, is all.

They wander to the end of the block, and then another block. He and Eddie have put the miles on a lot of pavement during their partnership, and some of them have been casual, comfortable walks home from a bar or restaurant, but they've never just taken a walk together just to enjoy it. It's awfully nice.

"I totally understand if you want to get home," he tells her, "I'm really glad you stayed, though. It's been a long day. Really, thanks."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," she replies. The honesty in her voice and direct gaze sort of guts him. "You know," she stops. "I mean, you know how I feel. About you. And not just you. I mean, I really do like your whole crazy family."

"I think I can safely say they like you," he says, enjoying the nose-wrinkle she gives him. "And yeah, I do know. And yeah…I know."

Their feet apparently stopped a little while ago.

His memories of their first kiss are a little hazy, but he remembers that he tipsily thought she would taste of candy lip gloss and margaritas. She didn't. She tasted like he always knew Eddie would taste, like her everyday self but who really wanted him to kiss her, and that, more than anything, woke up a few neurons at their switches before the train derailed. They weren't kids playing around. What they did had real-world repercussions.

The second time, she pretty much jumped him, but he got with the program in a hurry. He was on the very edge of kissing her back like he meant it, whatever sensible, rational words they'd just said to each other, when she'd slowed him down and pulled back.

And she's standing in the circle of his arms now, looking up at him with those eyes, that curving mouth upraised just so, and he's a heartbeat away, and he can't, not tonight, not after everything they've said, and not while there's the slightest chance of their partnership being ended permanently –

"Jamie," she warns him, "Remember?"

"I know," he says again, heavily. "Sorry. It's an unsettling sort of night. I'm not entirely here."

She fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. "That's okay. That's why I stayed. And I don't mean to say," she goes on, "that I am not one hundred percent available to talk or get you drunk or go rep-for-rep with you in the gym till you drop or whatever else you need. _You call me_ , okay?"

"Scout's honor."

"Because I know how much your family needs you, and I will not have you falling apart. Not on my watch. We clear, Officer?" She leans into his chest. He covers her cold little hands and tries to warm them up.

"Crystal," he assures her.

They walk on. "You staying over here tonight?" she asks. "Because your overnight kit is still in my trunk. We should grab that on the way back."

He thinks about it. "Nah. I think I'd be better off at home. The house is already crowded with Danny and the boys there, and Wendy and Sophie are staying, too. Erin and Nicky are heading home when we get back."

She nods. "In that case, you tell me when you're ready to go, and I'll run you home."

The girls come jogging up to them, rosy and refreshed. Linda was their aunt, and they miss her in all sorts of ways they won't even realize until later on, but they're relieved to have gotten out from under the suffocating pressure of the memories in the Reagan house – spouses and brothers lost too soon, family connections they haven't experienced yet and find excruciating to try to understand just now.

"Hey," friendly, reliable Uncle Jamie says, gathering them each under an arm. "Tell you what, let's show Eddie the old playground."

The girls agree and dash off again, and Eddie laughs with him, in the dark of the darkest night.

* * *

Sorting Puzzle Pieces

May 28th, 2017: 10:20pm  
Reagan House

In the aftermath of a rare event, it was policy to review the SOP that listed the operational and communications protocols.

Frank held in his hands the current version of Baker's evergreen protocol for Reagan family emergencies. It was something concrete to do, now that the house was quietened down and everyone else had fallen asleep from sheer emotional overtiredness. It was something that Linda would approve of, too. She would understand that debriefing procedures was as important to a cop's sense of closure as a post-op medical debriefing to assure a family that every care had been taken.

By and large, the protocol had held up. There were a couple of changes to make, mostly in the direction of humanizing the process of next-of-kin notifications and recognizing the importance of partnerships to the very human members of the NYPD.

Lieutenant Carver shouldn't have had to feel defensive about including Baez when she notified Danny of Linda's death, Frank thought. She'd been both compassionate and quite correct in reasoning that Baez would have found out within thirty seconds anyway, from Danny, and that Danny would not have been any better served by having to repeat the news himself. Likewise, Sergeant Renzulli shouldn't have felt awkward about calling Eddie in with Jamie to do the same. Yes, most family notifications of next-of-kin need not, and should not, involve police partners, but there were some partners who were deeply connected to each other's families, or were each other's in-loco family. Perhaps it was time to extend some latitude to supervisors, who knew their officers best.

And besides…maybe he was an old fool entering his dotage, but he harbored a strong and growing hope that one of his son's partners would undergo a change of status before too much longer.

He picked up his phone and held down the "2".

"Baker," came a voice. "How are you, sir? Do you need anything?"

"Just a small something," he said, "I know it's late, and I apologize."

"Not necessary, sir – we've worked far later."

"True enough. Listen, this protocol document for family emergencies. How did it work out on your end, this morning? Everything updated, any gaps?"

"Not that I could tell. I was able to reach everyone you'd requested, and had everyone's locations ready for the drivers. There was a lot of information we didn't need to use, thank God, though it'll save your family a lot of lawyer time in the next few months. I don't see anything to edit out yet. Except, pardon me, the information about Linda herself. I assume her immediate family will stay on the list."

"Yes, they will. And I have one more name to add, but I'll have to do a little detective work of my own to – "

"Officer Janko, sir?"

He paused. "You know they used to call you Radar O'Reilly, don't you?"

"So I've heard, sir. I have Officer Janko's contact information, residence, birthdate, immediate family phone numbers – including, um, the warden of her father's institution, sir – and the name of her listed doctor and dentist. I would need her permission or an override to access anything deeper in her personnel file."

Frank drummed his fingers on the table beside him. "If you were wondering why I haven't requested Maria Baez be added – "

"I wasn't, sir."

"Well. Even if you weren't. Detective Baez is Danny's long-time partner and has become a family friend. She of course will be kept in the loop as far as circumstances warrant. But Eddie…"

"Is adopted. I know."

"More or less. Anything beyond this is up to her and my son. But I'd feel better knowing she was on the list, and I think they would both say the same. Would you please reach out to her – let her know what the SOP is intended for, and ask if she's willing to be added. I think all that's missing are documents that she might not be inclined to release at this point in time anyway, so please let her know that the purpose of adding her now is merely to expedite communications and authorize her to receive family information as soon as we have it."

Baker gave him one of those lowered smiles, even over the phone. "I've just been waiting for your go-ahead to hit "send". Now get some sleep."

"Thank you, Baker."

"You old softy," said Henry, from the chair across from him. Frank looked sheepish. He'd thought his father was quite drunk and fast asleep, and was prepared to keep watch over him till he woke, if necessary.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Pop," he said.

"You're not wrong, Francis."

* * *

Peace Everlasting

June 3rd, 2017: 2:00 pm  
Resurrection Cemetery, Staten Island

"I thought Bishop Donovan hated the Archbishop," Sean mentioned casually, from the back seat of Jamie's Mustang. "But they're both on the program. Will they start a fight at Mom's funeral?"

"Sean!" Jamie warned. "You know better."

Sean looked over at Jack, who was smirking. "Well, you said – "

"Sean, shut up." Nicky hissed at her cousin. Leaning over between the front seats, she whispered, "You're right, they do, but shut up till this is over. I'll tell you what I know later."

Mollified, Sean shut up.

"And then," Jamie said, "I'll tell you what the _actual_ deal is, because I'm pretty sure Nicky won't know the whole story, either. Now settle down, all of you. I know nobody wants today to happen, but this is for your mother, and your dad, too. You're representing a lot of people you can be really proud of. Make them proud of you, okay?"

"I _know_ ," Nicky said, scandalized at being included in the talking-to.

"I know you know. Listen to me a sec, all right? You know we're going to the same place where your Grandma Mary and my Grandma Betty are buried, and Uncle Joe. Everyone's been keeping it together real well all week, but once you start seeing everyone else's reactions, and start putting your mom together with Uncle Joe and the others in your head, it's gonna get really intense. And that's okay. That's why we need things like funerals, to wrap our heads around really losing, really missing someone, and letting it all out."

"And then we come home and there's the wake." Jack added.

"And then there's the wake. Which you don't have to stay for. You can if you want to, but it's your house, and you can just go upstairs and get out of your suits if you want, okay?"

"I'm gonna stay," said Jack, quietly, "I wanna hear all the stories about Mom."

"Me too," said Sean.

"We're here," said Nicky softly. "Oh, look…look at all the cars. So many people."

"I didn't know there'd be so many cops here," Sean said, sounding taken aback.

Easily a hundred and fifty uniformed officers had attended the Funeral Mass at St. Patrick's, in the morning. Around fifty of them had made the trek to the graveside committal rite.

"Yeah," Jamie said, a little huskily. It wasn't a sight one forgot in a hurry. Especially since the last time he'd been at this hill for a committal in this cemetery was to bury his brother, his best friend and buddy, and the turnout had been just as strong.

He hardly wanted to remember Joe's funeral. The NYPD had spared no expense for Joe, orchestrating an all-ranks funeral at St. Patrick's Cathedral. The surrounding streets had been blocked off for hours for a full dress parade, and loudspeakers rigged so that everyone standing in ranks could listen to the service. It was the sort of thing Joe would have absolutely loathed. But as Henry had phlegmatically pointed out, cop funerals were an important part of the ritual and pageantry of the culture – and psychologically, a way to deal with the fact that they never knew when their tour would be over. Knowing what to expect after their death, from the respect and care given to their families to the remembrance of their own good service, was supposed to ease their minds of the burden of wondering, or so the philosophy went.

Personally, Jamie thought, Joe would have been much happier with a small hilltop service with the family priest and a few very close friends, followed by a royal booze-up and tear-fest back at the house.

For cop spouses, the wishes of the family generally overrode any NYPD penchant for pageantry. His mother's funeral had been small and warm, much like herself. But Linda was not only the wife of a popular and much-storied detective. She'd been much admired and liked in her own right, not just for her stalwart support of (and management of) Danny, but as a steady, calming force that other spouses could gather around and talk about the stress of being a police spouse, living with the constant knowledge that they might become widowed during any shift. It wasn't supposed to have been her.

That was what he, and everyone, kept coming back to. It wasn't supposed to have been Linda.

She was the one Reagan who didn't run towards danger, though she wouldn't back down in the face of it. She was one who regularly made Danny revisit his decision to stay a cop when he got shaky, and supported him entirely when he decided he wasn't done yet. She had been Erin's shoulder during her divorce, and such a capable, grounding presence during the Reagan funerals of the past few years that they hardly knew how to navigate one without her.

"You guys ready?" he asked softly. "Listen, I'm gonna ask one of the officers to stay with my car and hold the keys, okay? If any of you really needs to take a break and come sit in it, that's fine. But tell me first."

"Okay."

The kids stood in a squeaky-clean, well-dressed row and looked askance at the growing crowd of mourners, and the Archbishop in his purple robes waving people nearer. Nicky placed herself between her cousins and took each of their hands, and the three of them advanced slowly towards the gravesite in front of Jamie.

"This is so surreal," Jack murmured. "Seriously? There's like two hundred people here, from the police and the hospital. For Mom."

Jamie caught sight of Erin's usefully tall self, and waved. She waved back and pointed at the space beside her.

"Well," he said, "It's about to get more surreal. You guys have the front row seats. I'm afraid you're going to get stared at a lot. I'll be right behind you, though, and I'll make stupid faces so people won't try to take too many photos."

"Uncle Jamie!" Nicky covered her mouth to hide a shocked giggle.

They easily moved through the crowd, as people recognized and made room for them. Jamie found a familiar face from the two-five, who readily agreed to car-sit, and promised not to take the Mustang for a spin. More than a few officers, doctors and medical staff shook hands with Jack and Sean, offering their condolences. The boys looked a little wrung out with the shaking and the many variations of "It's a beautiful day for it," by the time they got to their father, who sat in the middle of the front row of folding chairs in his dress blues, with Erin on one side of him and two empty chairs waiting on the other.

"Hey, Dad," Jack said uncertainly. "Um, Uncle Jamie's car's over there if you need to go bench yourself for a bit."

This seemed to rouse Danny from his blank state. He pulled Jack down into the chair beside him and wrapped an arm around his neck.

"You're a good kid," he said, "And your Uncle Jamie is a smart man. But I'm here to do right by your mother, and I'm gonna stay right here until the last person leaves."

"Then we will, too," said Sean.

Nicky sat on the other side of her mother. Jamie slipped behind her to sit between his father and Abigail Baker, also in their dress blues. His grandfather sat on the other side of his father, and Garrett Moore and Lieutenant Gormley sat next to Baker.

"Kids all right?" his father murmured. "Thanks for driving. Danny needed the time."

"They're going to be fine," Jamie murmured back. His father nodded.

"Someday," he said. "It hasn't hit yet."

"Nope."

"I don't see Bishop Donovan," Jamie said, as the Archbishop took his place at the head of Linda's grave. "I thought he was going to do a reading."

"Oh, he is," said his father. "He's keeping himself scarce until the last minute. He and the Archbishop can't stand each other, you know."

* * *

Picking Up The Pieces

October 6, 2017: 5:12 pm  
Manhattan District Attorney's Office

It was by no means strange for Jamie to drop in on her at the office with a case-related question or an afternoon coffee, but it was odd for him to call first. When he came by, he was usually on a short break or on his way home, and she was either there, or not there, as the day dictated. So a pre-flight call to make an appointment set off her mental antennae, until he dropped a "we" into his query.

"You, plural?" she asked.

"Oh, it's - this is sort of a concern for both of us, Eddie and me. It's okay if she comes up, right?"

"Of course," she said, understanding now. Jamie might feel comfortable gatecrashing an ADA in a state government building, but Eddie would certainly prefer an official invite. Well, she was happy to oblige, especially if it meant an opportunity to gather a few more scraps of intel on how those two were doing. "If you can get here within twenty minutes, I can put off Morgenthaler for another ten or so."

"Okay, then. I guess Eddie's driving. She'll be happy. See you."

Smiling, Erin hung up, and sat back to ponder a moment.

It had been a rough summer on Jamie and Eddie, what with their partnership being temporarily split up and Linda's untimely death. Erin knew they'd made a point of hanging out together in their off-hours, during their thirty-shift split, so much so that that the rumor mill had started up again. If Erin didn't know the signs to watch for in her kid brother, she might have thought there was some truth to the chatter. Jamie was the type that simply couldn't help lingering a little over his girlfriends' names and dropping comments about them. But as soon as Eddie's name was mentioned, he turned into a grumpy clam except to say that he was counting the days to getting his partner back. She could only wrest from him that Patimkin was all right as a cop, and might be a good partner one day, if she stopped trying to prove that she might be a good partner one day.

Though there were a couple of times over the summer when her subconscious had sent her a telegram that Jamie was leaning on Eddie more than anyone knew. It might have been some molecular trace of Eddie's laundry soap, or maybe an imperceptible dilation of Jamie's pupils during a random dinner-table conversation, but Erin was absolutely sure that Jamie had spent a few nights with Eddie. Very likely just sleeping, deeply and exhaustedly. For which she was grateful.

Erin suspected that the rumors had more to do with the two of them upping the banter more than usual. Compensating for missing each other deeply, and not wanting to talk about Linda's death in public.

She shook her head as if to clear it, picked up a pen, and resumed checking off her list of files for transport to Court in the morning.

Jamie and Eddie arrived in seventeen minutes, bearing coffee, as she was preparing to close down her office for the day and head to her last meeting.

"Don't mind if I putter," she told them, "I'm listening."

They stood out of her way while she cleared away take-away containers and the day's newspapers. Jamie outlined the situation they had uncovered regarding Congressman Walters and his apparent taking advantage of Andrea Rivas, whose family he had publicly stated he was trying to help bring to America. Eddie filled in a few more details, and they batted a few hypotheticals back and forth like old debate partners. Erin smiled at the two of them despite herself, but saw their point. Something _ought_ to be done, certainly, but it was risky. There were bigger fights out there than one Congressman being a hypocritical jerk.

Still, even with her warnings, she liked the glint in Eddie's eyes. She realized that this was personal for Eddie, somehow, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Someone had betrayed her badly, at some point, she thought. Violation of trust was definitely one of her buttons.

"She could try to remake Nannygate," she tossed out. It wasn't much, and it might turn out to be a grenade, but she was curious to see what Jamie, and especially Eddie, would make of it.

Eddie sat up straighter. "What's that?"

Erin could practically see the younger woman taking detailed notes behind her eyes as she outlined the precedent. It was a big risk for a pair of relatively junior police officers assigned to a protective detail, with no departmental permission whatsoever to investigate. Still, Jamie's shared glance with Eddie seemed to indicate that he was game if she was, and Eddie didn't show any signs of backing down once she had a fingernail hold.

As Eddie stood up, with a renewed purpose in her spine, Jamie gestured to the file boxes Erin had stacked around her small conference table. "Those going somewhere?" he asked. "We haven't had a workout yet today."

"Oh, no – I mean, yes, but they're for Court. We have trained assistants to do the heavy lifting and carting for us. Literally. OSHA regulations. Thanks, though. C'mon, I'll walk you out." They fell into step side by side, as she collected her briefcase and jacket. As Eddie passed by her through the door, she thought to ask: "Hey, am I in your phone yet?"

"Yep. I got you."

"You do?" Jamie turned to his partner. "Didn't know you girls were such pals."

"Oh, shush. You never know when you'll need an ADA. And clearly I don't call her up to ask for dirt on you, or she'd have known that already. Relax, Reagan. I mean, Jamie. Sorry. Habit. Do you get called Reagan too?" she asked Erin.

Erin grinned somewhat savagely. "Sometimes. You should hear some of the things I get called after court."

"I can imagine," Eddie sighed. "Success compounded by the unforgivable crime of being, you know, female and right. Here's my card, by the way. Not sure if I'm in your phone."

They reached the elevator, and Erin hit the call button. "You will be as soon as I have thirty seconds in the cab," she promised. She and Eddie shared a smile of understanding.

As Jamie kissed her cheek in farewell, down at ground level, she gave his arm a hard pinch. _Hey. Life is short_ , she telegraphed at him, when he jolted back and raised his eyebrow at her.

He got it, all right. He let out the tiniest sigh and looked up through his lashes _._

Her antennae buzzed again. She slid him a look out of the corner of her eye, and she knew. She couldn't quite believe she'd missed it, but then, he'd had such a _plausible_ reason for parading himself and Eddie in front of her eyes. Jamie and his layers of meaning, all hidden under a disarming smile. Now that she was looking, she saw the easy, relaxed way he carried himself, and the smallest smirk at the corners of his mouth.

 _You little bastard_ , she thought fondly. _Well. I hope you know what the hell you're up to. You just got your partner back, and you're playing with fire already? Well, good luck to both of you, because I am claiming total ignorance._

Eddie stood a discreet distance apart and also pretended not to notice.

Even though her mind scurried past any notion of her little brother as a figure of romance, she knew deep and good and nourishing love, when she saw it. She wished that for Jamie, and the more she got to know Eddie, the more she wished it for her, too. It wasn't a maternal pang, exactly, but she was just so proud of them both, and a little stunned to think that she had any part in bringing up such a quietly remarkable man as Jamie. They deserved every chance.

She had never had a little sister in the way she was beginning to think of Eddie. Linda, not even two years younger, had been her long-time best friend and co-conspirator against the wall of Reagan males as they all grew up. And Sydney was always a self-contained unit – certainly bright and pleasant and kind, but in the five years she and Jamie had been together, she still cast an aura that kept everyone on their best behaviour around the table. Even the kids noticed it and treated Syd as company, not as anything approaching Aunt Sydney. It wasn't just her relative youth compared to the kids. She was a beautiful, well-behaved cat trying to fit into a family of boisterous, loyal dogs.

Erin couldn't imagine Eddie witnessing a full-on Reagan row without planting her flag and roaring along with everyone else. And somehow she could hear the kids calling "Aunt Eddie!" or even "Auntie Ed!" quite clearly, not by tradition but from sheer affection.

A name to bring her into the family circle, for real.

"I'll grab this one," she said, waving down a cab. "Keep me posted on Walters. See you at Mass – if you find time to get to Confession first."

And having tossed her own grenade, she folded her long legs into the cab, and smirked innocently right back at her brother.


End file.
